
Edwin ^oofh^fi 




^rornjiUBook of 



Much Ado 



Ju 



*, 



About Nothing. 



Edited bij 



William Winter. 



The Prompt-Book. 



Edited by 



William lVi7tte7r 



In uniform volumes : 

The Merchant of Venice. 

Much Ado About Nothing. 

Katharine and Petruchio. 

Don Caesar de Bazan. 

The Fool's Revenge. Ruy Bias. 

&c. &c. 
As presented by 



^ Hamlet. 
' Othello. 

Richard II. 

Richelieu. 



King Lear. 
Macbeth. 
Richard III. 
Henry VIII. 
Brutus. 



Edwi7t Booth. 



Lee & Shepard, 41 FrankHn Street, Boston. 



Charles T. Dillingham, 678 Broadway, New-York. 



The Prompt -Book. 

Edited by William Winter. 

Shakespeare s Comedy 

Of 

Much Ado About Nothing, 

As Presented by 

Edwin Booth. 

** My coushi means Signior Benedick of Padua,*' 

" He is of a noble strain, of approved valour, and confirmed 
Jwnesty. ' ' 

*' From the crow7i of his head to the sole of his foot lie is all 
mlrtli. ' ' 

'■ Nattire never frajned a woma^t's heart 
Of pro7ider stuff tJian that of Beatrice.''^ 

" There was a star danced, and under that was I born." 



** There is a kind of vterry war betwixt Signior Benedick and 
her" — 

*' When I said I would die a bachelor ; I did not think I 
shotdd live till I were married. '* 

"Man is a giddy thiitg, and this is my conclusion.'' 



^ 






J^o.JMl±.L ,, 

New -Fork: ^^ O— J"^ ^- "i^^ 

Printed, for Williain Winter^ by 
Francis Hart &^ Company ,, 63 and 6s Murray Street, 
1878, 





C tr\^ 'fj 



r 






Copyright, 1878, 
By William Winter. 



Press of 
Francis Hart &: Co. 






^refacc^ 



jr^RANCIS MERES, — 159^^ — who 7nentio?is twelve of 
^ Shakespeare' s plays, then k?iow7t, does not mention 
"Much Ado About Nothing^'; and this comedy was first 
published in 1600. 2he date of its composition is indicated 
by these facts. That part of it luhich relates to Hero and 
Claudia is founded on the story of Genev7'a and Arioda?it, 
in Ariosto's " Orlando Fiuioso '' — a translation of which, 
by Sir John Harrington, appeared in E^igland, in 1591. 
There is a similar story in one of Ba7idello's novels, trans- 
lated by Belleforest, and also i/i Spenser's "• Faerie Queen,'^ 
Book a. Canto 4th, 1590. An earlier play, touching upon 
the same theme, was acted before Qiieen Elizabeth, by ''the 
Children of FauPs,'' ^in 1^82-j. Either or all of these 
7nay have met the eye of Shakespeare, His treatment of the 
story, hoiuever, is found to be entirely his 07un ; aiid he may, 
in fact, be said to have i^e-created it. Benedick a?id Beatrice, 
Dogberry and Vei^ges, and all that relates to these characters, 
are the invention of Shakespeare. The text of ''Much Ado,'' 
as first published, was 7iot divided into acts ; but, i7i the Folio 
of 162^ these divisions appear. The comedy was popular in 
Shakespeare's ti77ie, a7id it has always bee7i a favourite i7i the 
theat7rs. The origi7ial rep7rse7itative of Dogber7y was Wil- 
liam Kempe; who, also , probably , was the original of Botto7n. 
Verges was first acted by Tow ley ; a7id Balthazar, — with 
the so7ig of ''Sigh 710 77io7^e, ladies'' — by Wilson : these facts 



are denoted i?i the Folio ?'ep7'int. The period of '''Much 
Ado"" is supposed to be about 1^2^-j^ ; for the reasoji that 
the last 7uar in zuhich the Italians imder Spa?iish rule were 
engaged was ended hi 152^^ and the Emperor Charles V.y 
of Spai7i, who had gained the crowns of Naples and Sicily^ 
7nade a triumphal e?itry into Palermo and Messina iii 1535. 
To these evefits the opening of the comedy see?ns to refer. 
The present acting-copy of "-Much Ado^' which differs from 
all othei's^ co7idenses the piece f7'07n five acts i7ito three. 
The volu77ie of excisio7is is, of course, C07iside7'able, The 
77iost i77iporta7it sacrifice is that of the sce7ie i7i which Dog- 
be7'ry bestows his 'Hedious7iess " 7ipo7i Leo7iato. Balthaza7^s 
so7ig will also be 77iissed. It is thought, though, that this 
versio7i of '•'Much Ado^^ — which has bee7i effectually tested 
in the practical expe7ie7ice of Edwi7i Booth — does no i7ijus- 
tice to either the story, the cha7'acters, the 77iove77ient, or the 
text of the 07dgi7ial. The stage copy generally used is that 
which loJm Philip Ke77ible a7Ta7tged, i7i I7gg. The a7iimal 
is77i, the selfasse7iive i7it7^usive7iess, and the rank flippancy 
of Be7iedicka7id Beatrice — qualities luhich caused Ca77ipbell 
to characterize the lady as " odioiis^ a7id the cavalier as 07ily 
a little less disagreeable — ^;r appare7it in the original, but 
subdued i7i the acti7ig versio7i. The 7nost ad77ii7rd Be7iedick 
of the last ce7itury was Garrick ; the 7nost brillia7it repre- 
se7itatives of Beat7'ice were Airs. Pritc hard and M7's. Abing- 
ton. The latter was the origi7ial lady Teazle, "Beatrice 
has 77iore wit and pert7iess than good-breedi7ig^' says old 
John Taylor, "and in that she [Af7's. Abingto7i\ was 
excelle7ity The 77iost re7iow7ied Be7iedick of rece7it times was 
Charles Ke77ible. W, W, 

New- York, October 24th, 1878. 



The wars are over. 

The Spring is come." — Byron. 



' Then let me live one long romance, 

And learn to trifle well ; 
And write my motto, ' Vive la dance,' 
And ' Vive la bagatelle' /" — Praed. 



" White favours rest 
On every breast, 
And yet methinks we seem not gay : 
The chnrch is cold. 
The priest is old, 
Atid who shall give the bride awayf" 

William Allingham. 



'Each lonely scene shall thee restore. 

For thee the tear be duly shed; 
Beloved till life can charm no more, 

Afid 7nourned till Pity's self be dead,'' — Collins. 



" You stispect, I see, 
And rightly — there has been some 7nasking here." 

Knowles. 



' A lover's jealousy and hopeless pangs 

No kindly heart conte7?t}is ." — Jo ANNA Baillie. 



' A human heart should beat for two, 

Despite the scoffs of single scorn ers. 
And all the hearths I ever knew 

Had got a pair of chimiiey corners." 

F'REDERiCK Locker. 



•?^ 



Don Pedro, Prince of Aragofi. 

Don John, National Brother to Don Pedro. 

Claudio, a yoim^ Lord of Florence y ) 

> Favourites to Don Pedro. 
Benedick, a young Lordof Padua^ ) 

Leonato, Governor of Messi7ia, 

Anton JO, Brother to Leonato. 

Balthazar, Servant to Don Pedro. 

borachio, 

Conrade, 

Dogberry, 

Verges, 

Seacoal, 

Oatcake, 

Friar Francis. 

A Sexton. 

Hero, Daughter to Leonato. 

Beatrice, Niece to Leonato. 

Margaret 



Followers of Don John. 
> Officers of Police m Messina, 



Watchmen. 



, Gentlewomen, attendant on Hero. 
Ursula, ) 

Lords, Ladies, Watchmen, and Attendants. 



Scene. — Messijia, in the Island of Sicily. 
Period. — The Sixteenth Century [/JJj]. 
Time of Action. — /;/ this version of the Co?nedy,four days. 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 



C Messina. Court, before the House 

Scene jFtrfiit < of Leonato. Leonato, Hero, Bea- 

( trice, and Balthazar are discovered. 



Leon, 

I learn in this letter that Don Pedro of Aragon comes 
this night to Messina. 

Bait 

He is very near by this ; he was not three leagues off 
when I left him. 

Leon. 

How many gentlemen have you lost in this action ? 

Bait 
But few of any sdrt, and none of name. 

Beat 

I pray you, is Signior Montanto returned from the wars, 
or no ? 



>l 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 



Bait, 



I know none of that name, lady ; there was none such 
in the army of any sort. 

Leon, 

What is he that you ask for, niece ? 

Hero. 
My cousin means Signior Benedick of Padua. 

Bait, 
O, he is returned, and as pleasant as ever he was. 

Beat, 

I pray you, how many hath he killed and eaten in these 
wars ? But how many hath he killed ? for indeed, I 
promise to eat all of his killing. 

Leo7i. 

Faith, niece, you tax Signior Benedick too much; but 
he '11 be meet with you, I doubt it not. 

Bait, 
He hath done good service, lady, in these wars. 

Beat. 

You had musty victual, and he hath holp to eat it : he 
is a very valiant trencher-man, he hath an excellent 
stomach. 

Bait: 

And a good soldier too, lady. 

Beat. 

And a good soldier to a lady ; but what is he to a lord ? 
Who is his companion now ? He hath every month a new 
sworn brother. 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. II 

Bait, 

Is it possible ? 

Beat, 

Very easily possible : he wears his faith but as the fashion 
of his hat; it ever changes with the next block. 

Bait, 
I see, lady, the gentleman is not in your books. 

Beat. 

No : an he were, I would burn my study. But, I pray 
you, who is his companion ? 

Bait, 
He is most in the company of the right noble Claudio. 

Beat, 

O lord ! he will hang upon him like a disease ; he is 
sooner caught than the pestilence, and the taker runs 
presently mad. 

Heaven help the noble Claudio ! if he have caught the 
Benedick, it will cost him a thousand pound ere he be 
cured. 

Leon. 

You will never run mad, niece. 

Beat, 

No, not till a hot January. 

{March. 
Bait, \Lookiug off. 

Don Pedro is approached. 

[Bitter Don Pedro., Don John, Claudio and 
Benedick, r. u. e. 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 12 

D07l P. 

Good Signior Leonato, are you come to meet your 
trouble ? the fashion of the world is to avoid cost, and you 
encounter it. 

Leon, 

Never came trouble to my house in the likeness of your 
grace ; for trouble being gone, comfort should remain ; 
but when you depart from me, sorrow abides and happi- 
ness takes his leave. 

Don P. 

You embrace your charge too willingly. I think this is 
your daughter. [Bowing to Hero. 

Leon. 

Her mother hath many times told me so. 

Bened. 
Were you in doubt, sir, 'that you asked her ? 

Leon, 
Signior Benedick, no ; for then were you a child. 

Don P. 

You have it full, Benedick : we may guess by this what 
you are, being a man. Truly the lady fathers herself — Be 
happy, lady ! for you are like an honourable father. 

Bened. 

If Signior Leonato be her father, she would not have 
his head on her shoulders for all Messina, as like him as 
she is. 

\All retire up stage, except Benedick and Beatrice, 
and converse, c. 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 13 

Beat, 

I wonder that you will still be talking, Signior Benedick; 
nobody marks you. 

Bcned, 

What, my dear lady disdain ! are you yet living ? 

Beat. 

Is it possible disdain should die, while she hath such 
meet food to feed it as Signior Benedick ? Courtesy 
itself must convert to disdain if you come in her presence. 

Bened, 

Then is courtesy a turncoat. — But it is certain I am 
loved of all ladies, only you excepted: and I would I could 
find in my heart that I had not a hard heart : for, truly, I 
love none. 

Beat. 

A dear happiness to women ; they would else have been 
troubled with a pernicious suitor. I thank heaven, and my 
cold blood, I am of your humour for that ; I had rather 
hear my dog bark at a crow than a man swear he loves me. 

Bened, 

Heaven keep your ladyship still in that mind ! so some 
gendeman or other shall 'scape a predestinate scratched 
face. 

Beat. 

Scratching could not make it worse, an 't were such a 
face as yours. 

Bened, 

Well, you are a rare parrot-teacher. 

Beat, 

A bird of my tongue is better than a beast of yours. 
2 



1 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 14 

Bcned, 

I would my horse had the speed of your tongue ; and so 
good a continuer. But keep your way, o' heaven's name ; 
1 have done. 

Beat. 

You always end with a jade's trick; I know you of old. 

\All advance, 
Don R 

This is the sum of all : Leonato, — Signior Claudio, and 
Signior Benedick, — my dear friend Leonato hath invited 
you all. I tell him we shall stay here at the least a month ; 
and he heartily prays some occasion may detain us longer : 
I dare swear he is no hypocrite, but prays from his heart. 

Leon, 

If you swear, my lord, you shall not be forsworn. 

[To Don John, 
Let me bid you welcome, my lord : being reconciled to 
the prince your brother, I owe you all duty. 

Don J, 
I thank you : I am not of many words, but I thank you. 

Leon. 
Please it your grace lead on ? 

Don R 

Your hand, Leonato; we will go together. 

[Exfunt all but Benedick and Claiidio l. u. e. 

Claud. 

Benedick! didst thou note the daughter of Signior 
Leonato ? 

Bened. 

I noted her not : but I looked on her. 



I 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 15 

Claud, 
Is she not a modest young lady ? 

Bened, 

Do you question me, as an honest man should do, for 
my simple true judgment; or would you have me speak 
after my custom, as being a professed tyrant to their sex? 

Claud, 
No, I pray thee, speak in sober judgment. 

Beiied, 

Why, i' faith, methinks she 's too lovv for a high praise, 
too brown for a fair praise, and too little for a great praise : 
only this commendation I can afford her : that were she 
other than she is, she were unhandsome; and being no 
other but as she is, I do not like her. 

Claud, 

Thou thinkest 1 am in sport; I pray thee tell me truly 
how thou likest her. 

Bened, 
Would you buy her, that you inquire after her ? 

Claud, 
Can the world buy such a jewel ? 

Be7ied, 

Yea, and a case to put it into. But speak you this with 
a sad brow ? or do you play the flouting jack ? 

Claud, 

In my eye she is the sweetest lady that ever I looked 
on. 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. l6 

Bened. 

I can see yet without spectacles, and I see no such 
matter : there 's her cousin, an she were not possessed 
with a fury, exceeds her as much in beauty as the first of 
May doth the last of December. But I hope you have 
no intent to turn husband ; have you ? 

Claud. 

I would scarce trust myself, though I had sworn the 
contrary, if Hero would be my wife. 

Belied, 

Is 't come to this, i' faith ? Hath not the world one 
man but he will wear his cap with suspicion ? Shall I 
never see a bachelor of three-score again ? Go to, i' faith : 
an' thou wilt needs thrust thy neck into a yoke, wear the 
print of it, and sigh away Sundays. Look, Don Pedro is 
returned to seek you. \Re-ejiter Don Pedro. 

Don P. 

What secret hath held you here, that you followed not 
to Leonato's ? 

Bened. 
I would your grace would constrain me to tell. 

Don P. 
I charge thee on thy allegiance. 

Bened. 

You hear, Count Claudio ? I can be secret as a dumb 
man, I would have you think so ; but on my allegiance — 
mark you this, on my allegiance ! He is in love. With 
whom ? — now that is your grace's part. Mark, how short 
his answer is, — with Hero, Leonato's short daughter. 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 1 7 

Claud, 
If this were so, so were it uttered, 

Bened, 

Like the old tale, my lord : " it is not so, nor 't was not 
so; but, indeed, heaven forbid it should be so." 

Claud, 

If my passion change not shortly, heaven forbid it 
should be otherwise. 

Don F. 

Amen, if you love her; for the lady is very well worthy. 

Claicd, 
You speak this, to fetch me in, my lord. 

Don P, 
By my troth, I speak my thought. 

Claud. 
And in faith, my lord, I spoke mine. 

Bejied. 

And by my two faiths and troths, my lord, I spoke 
mine. 

Claud. 
That I love her, I feel. 

Don P, 

That she is worthy, I know. 

Belied, 

That I neither feel how she should be loved, nor know 
how she should be worthy, is the opinion that fire cannot 
melt out of me ; I will die in it at the stake. 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 1 8 

Don P. 

Thou wast ever an obstinate heretic in the despite of 
beauty. 

Claud. 

And never could maintain his . part but in the force of 
his will. 

Bened. 

That a woman conceived me, I thank her; that she 
brought me up, I likewise give her most humble thanks : 
but that I will have a recheat winded in my forehead, all 
women shall pardon me. Because I will not do them the 
wrong to mistrust any, I will do myself the right to trust 
none; and the fine is (for the w^hich I may go the finer), 
I will live a bachelor. 

Don P. 

. I shall see thee, ere I die, look pale with love. 

Bened, 

With anger, with sickness, or with hunger, my lord • not 
with love : prove that ever I lose more blood with love 
than I w^ill get again with drinking — pick out mine eyes 
with a ballad-maker's pen, and hang me up for the sign of 
blind Cupid. 

Don P. 

Well, if ever thou dost fall from this faith, thou wilt 
prove a notable argument. 

Bened, 

If I do, hang me in a bottle like a cat, and shoot at me, 
and he that hits me, let him be clapped on the shoulder 
and called, Adam. 

Don P, 

Well, as time shall try : 

" In time the savage bull doth bear the yoke." 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 1 9 

Bened. 

The savage bull may, but if ever this sensible Benedick 
bear it, pluck off the bull's horns and set them in my fore- 
head : and let me be vilely painted, and in such great let- 
ters as they write " Here is good horse to hire," let them 
signify under my sign, — '' Here you may see Benedick, the 
married man." 

Don F, 

Nay, if Cupid have not spent all his quiver in Venice, 
thou wilt quake for this shortly. 

Bened. 
I look for an earthquake too, then. 

Doji P. 

Well, you will temporize with the hours. In the mean- 
time, good Signior Benedick, repair to Leonato's ; com- 
mend me to him, and tell him I will not fail him at supper ; 
for, indeed, he hath made great preparation. 

Bened, 

I have almost matter enough in me for such an embas- 
sage; and so I commit you \Goi7igiip, 

Claud. 

To the tuition of heaven: From my house, — if I had 
it 

D07l P. 

The sixth of July : Your loving friend, Benedick. 

Bened. 

Nay, mock not, mock not : The body of your discourse 
is sometimes guarded with fragments, and the guards are 
but slightly basted on neither : ere you flout old ends any 
farther, examine your conscience — and so I leave you. 

\Exit Benedick l. u. e. 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 20 

Claud. 
My liege, your highness now may do me good. 

Don P. 

My love is thine to teach ; teach it but how, 
And thou shalt see how apt it is to learn 
Any hard lesson that may do thee good. 

Claud. 
Hath Leonato any son, my lord ? 

D07l P. 

No child but Hero, she 's his only heir: 
Dost thou affect her, Claudio ? 

Claud. 
O, my lord, 

When you went onward on this ended action, 
I looked upon her with a soldier's eye, 
That liked, but had a rougher task in hand 
Than to drive liking to the name of love : 
But now 1 am returned, and that war-thoughts 
Have left their places vacant, in their rooms 
Come thronging soft and delicate desires. 
All prompting me how fair young Hero is. 
Saying, I liked her ere I went to wars. 

Don P. 

Thou wilt be like a lover presently. 

And tire the hearer with a book of words. 

If thou dost love fair Hero, cherish it ; 

And I will break with her ; and with her father, 

And thou shalt liave her. Was 't not to this end 

That thou began'st to twist so fine a story ? 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 21 

Claud, 

How sweetly do you minister to love, 
That know love's grief by his complexion ! 
But lest my liking might too sudden seem, 
I would have salved it with a longer treatise. 

Don P, 
What need the bridge much broader than the flood ? 
The fairest ground is the necessity. 
Look, what will serve is fit : 't is once, thou lovest ; 
And I will fit thee with the remedy. 
I know we shall have revelling to-night ; 
I will assume thy part, in some disguise, 
And tell fair Hero I am Claudio ; 
And in her bosom I '11 unclasp my heart. 
And take her hearing prisoner with the force 
And strong encounter of my amourous tale : 
Then, after, to her father will I break ; 
And, the conclusion is, she shall be thine. 
In practice let us put it presently. 

[Exeunt l. u. e. — Sce?ie changes. 



%ttXit ^econft* — A Spacious Hall in Leonato's House. 

\Enter Don John and Conrade c. 

Con. 

What the good year, my lord ? why are you thus out 
of measure sad ? 

Don J. 

I cannot hide what I am : I must be sad when I have 
cause, and smile at no man's jests; eat when I have 
stomach, and wait for no man's leisure ; sleep when I am 
drowsy, and tend no man's business ; laugh when I am 
merry, and claw no man in his humour. 
3 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 22 

C07l, 

Yea, but you must not make the full show of this, till 
you may do it without controlment. You have of late 
stood out against your brother, and he hath ta'en you 
newly into his grace; where it is impossible you should 
take true root, but by the fair weather that you make 
yourself: it is needful that you frame the season for your 
own harvest. 

JDofi J. 

I had rather be a canker in a hedge than a rose in his 
grace; and it better fits my blood to be disdained of all, 
than to fashion a carriage to rob love from any. I am 
trusted with a muzzle, and enfranchised with a clog; 
therefore, I have decreed not to sing in my cage ; — if I had 
my mouth I would bite ; if I had my liberty I would do 
my liking : in the meantime, let me be that I am, and seek 
not to alter me. 

Con. 
Can you make no use of your discontent ? 

Don y. 

I make all use of it, for I use it only. Who comes 
here ? \Enter Borachio l. 

What news, Borachio ? 

Borach, 
I can give you intelligence of an intended marriage. 

Don J, 

W^ill it serve for any model to build mischief on ? What 
is he for a fool, that betroths himself to unquietness ? 

Borach. 
Marry, it is your brother's right hand. 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 23 

D07l J. 

Who ? the most exquisite Claudio ? 

B orach. 
Even he. 

Don J. 

A proper squire ! And who, and who ? which way 
looks he ? 

B orach. 

Marry, on Hero, the daughter and heir of Leonato. 

Don J. 

A very forward March-chick ! This may prove food to 
my displeasure : that young start-up hath all the glory of 
my overthrow ; if I can cross him in any way I bless 
myself every way. You are both sure, and will assist me ? 

Con. 

To the death, my lord. 

\Exeunt c. As they go out, enter Leonato, Anto- 
nio, Hero, and Beatrice. The ladies wear 
donii?toes and carry masks. The parties ex- 
cha7ige bows. 

Beat. 

How tartly that gentleman looks ! I never can see him, 
but I am heart-burned an hour after. 

Hero. 
He is of a very melancholy disposition. 

Beat. 

He were an excellent man that were made just in the 
mid-way between him and Benedick ; the one is too like 
an image, and says nothing ; and the other too like my 
lady's eldest son, evermore tattling. 



i 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 24 

Leon, 

Then half Signior Benedick's tongue in Count John's 
mouth, and half Count John's melancholy in Signior 

Benedick's face 

Beat. 

With a good leg, and a good foot, uncle, and money 
enough in his purse, such a man would win any woman 
in the world, — if he could get her good-will. 

\Hero a7id Anto7iio retire up stage, and converse, 

Leon. 

By my troth, niece, thou wilt never get thee a husband 
if thou be so shrewed of thy tongue. 

Beat. 

For the which blessing I am upon my knees every 
morning and evening : Lord ! I could not endure a 
husband with a beard on his face. 

Leo7i. 
You may light upon a husband that hath no beard. 

Beat. 

What should I do with him ? dress him in my apparel, 
and make him my waiting-gentlewoman ? He that hath 
a beard is more than a youth ; and he that hath no beard 
is less than a man : and he that is more than a youth is 
not for me ; and he that is less than a man I am not for 
him. 

Ant, [To LLero, advaiicing. 

Well, niece, I trust you will be ruled by your father. 

Beat. 

Yes, faith ; it is my cousin's duty to make courtsey, and 
^say, '^Father, as it please you:" — but yet for all that, 
cousin, let him be a handsome fellow^ or else make another 
courtsey, and say, '^ Father, as it please me." 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 25 

Leo /I. 

Well, niece, I hope to see you one day fitted with a 
husband. 

Beat 

Not till heaven make men of some other metal than 
earth. Would it not grieve a woman to be over-mastered 
with a piece of valiant dust ? to make an account of her 
life to a clod of wayward marl ? No, uncle, I '11 none : 
Adam's sons are my brethren ; and truly, I hold it a sin 
to match in my kindred. 

Leon, 

Cousin, you apprehend passing shrewdly. 

Beat. 

I have a good eye, uncle; I can see a church by day- 
light. \Music within. 

Leon. 

The revellers are entering. 

[Leonato, Antoiiio, Beatrice, and ILero retire up 
stage. Exit Beatrice, Enter Don Pedro, 
Claiidio, Balthazar, Don Joh?t, Borachio, Con- 
rade, Marga?rt^ Ursula, and others, masked, 

Don P. [To Hero, 

Lady, will you walk about with your friend ? 

ILero. 

So you walk softly, and look sweetly, and say nothing, 
I am yours for the walk ; and, especially, when I walk 
away. 

Don P. 

With me in your company ? 

ILero. 
I may say so, when I please. 



< 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 26 

D07l F. 

And when please you to say so ? 

Hero, 

When I hke your favour; for heaven defend the lute 
should be like the case ! 

Don F, 
My visor is Philemon's roof; within the house is Jove. 

He7v. 
Why, then your visor should be thatched. 

Doji F. 

Speak low, if you speak love. 

\Music, Exeimt omjies, — Enter Benedick^ masked^ 
followed by Beatrice^ laughing. 

Beat 
Will you not tell me who told you so ? 

Bened. 
No, you shall pardon me. 

Beat, 
Nor will you not tell me who you are ? 

Bened, 
Not now. 

Beat, 

That I was disdainful, — and that I had my good wit 
out of the '^Hundred Merry Tales"; — Well, this was 
Signior Benedick that said so. 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 27 

Bened. 
What 's he ? 

Beat, 

I am sure you know him well enough. 

Bened, 
Not I, believe me. 

Beat. 

Did he never make you laugh ? 

Be7ied. 

I pray you, what is he ? 

Beat. 

Why, he is the princess jester : a very dull fool ; only his 
gift is in devising impossible slanders : none but libertines 
delight in him ; and the commendation is not in his wit, 
but in his villainy ; for he both pleaseth men and angers 
them, and then they laugh at him and beat him. 

Bened. 

When I know the gentleman, I '11 tell him what you 
say. 

Beat. 

Do, do: he'll but break a comparison or two on me: 
which, peradventure, not marked, or not laughed at, strikes 
him into melancholy ; and then there 's a partridge's wing 
saved, for the fool will eat no supper that night. 

\Music. The guests move off slowly. 
We must follow the leaders. ^Exeunt. 

[Music. Enter Don John^ Borachio^ and Claudio. 

Don J. 

Sure, my brother is amourous on Hero, and hath with- 
drawn her father to break with him about it : the ladies 
follow her, and but one visor remains. 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 28 

B orach. 
And that is Claudio : I know him by his bearing. 

Don J, [ Unmasked ; to Claudio, 
Are not you Signior Benedick ? 

Claud. 
You know me well ; I am he. 

Doti J. 

Signior, you are very near my brother in his love : he is 
enamoured on Hero. I pray you dissuade him from her, 
she is no equal for his birth : you may do the part of an 
honest man in it. 

Claud. 

How know you he loves her ? 

Don J. 
I heard him swear his affection. 

B orach. 
So did I too ; and he swore he would marry her to-night. 

Don J, 

Come, let us to the banquet. 

\Exeu7it Don John a?id Borachio. 

Claud. 

Thus answer I in name of Benedick, 

But hear these ill news with the ears of Claudio. 

^T is certain so ; — the prince wooes for himself 

Friendship is constant in all other things, 

Save in the office and affairs of love : 

Therefore, all hearts in love use their own tongues ; 



r 



i 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 29 

Let every eye negotiate for itself, 

And trust no agent : for beauty is a witch, 

Against whose charms faith melteth into blood. 

This is an accident of hourly proof. 

Which I mistrusted not : farewell, therefore, Hero. 

[Re-enter Benedick c. 
Bened. 
Count Ciaudio ? 

Claud, 
Yea, the same. 

Bened. 

Come, will you go with me ? 

Claud, 
Whither? 

Bened. 

Even to the next willow, about your own business, 
count. What fashion will you wear the garland of? 
About your neck, like an usurer's chain ? or under your 
arm, like a lieutenant's scarf? You must wear it one way, 
for the prince hath got your Hero. 

Claud. 
I wish him joy of her. 

Bened, 

Why, that 's spoken like an honest drover ; so they sell 
bullocks. But did you think the prince would have served 
you thus ? 

Claud. 
I pray you, leave me. 

Bened. 

Ho ! now you strike like the blind man; 't was the boy 
that stole your meat, and you '11 beat the post. 

Claud. 

If it will not be, I '11 leave you. \Exit Ciaudio, 

4 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 30 

Bened, 

Alas ! poor hurt fowl ! Now will he creep into sedges. 
— But that my lady Beatrice should know me, and not 
know me ! The prince's fool ! — Ha, it may be I go under 
that title, because I am merry. — Yea; but so I am apt to 
do myself wrong : I am not so reputed : it is the base 
though bitter disposition of Beatrice that puts the world 
mto her person, and so gives me out. Well, I '11 be 
revenged as I may. \E?iter Don Pedro c. 

Don P. 
Now, signior, where 's the count ? Did you see him ? 

Bened. 

Troth, my lord, I have played the part of lady Fame. I 
have found him here as melancholy as a lodge in a warren ; 
I told him, and I think told him true, that your grace had 
got the will of this young lady; and I offered him my 
company to a willow tree, either to make him a garland, 
as being forsaken, or to bind him a rod, as being worthy to 
be whipped. 

Don P. 

To be whipped ! What 's his fault ? 

Be?ied. 

The flat transgression of a schoolboy ; who, being over- 
joyed with finding a bird's nest, shows it his companion, 
and he steals it. 

Don P. 

Wilt thou make a trust a transgression ? The transgression 
is in the stealer. 

Bened. 

Yet it had not been amiss the rod had been made, and 
the garland too ; for the garland he might have worn 
himself; and the rod he might have bestowed on you, 
who, as I take it, have stolen his bird's nest. 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 3 1 

Don P. 

I will but teach them to sing, and restore them to the 
owner. 

Bened. 

If their singing answer your saying, by my faith, you 
say honestly. 

Don P. 

The lady Beatrice hath a quarrel to you ; the gentleman 
that danced with her told her she is much wronged by 
you. 

Bened. 

Wronged ? She wronged ? O, she misused me past the 
endurance of a block : an oak, but with one green leaf on 
it, would have answered her; my very visor began to 
assume life and scold with her. She told me, not thinking 
I had been myself, that I was the prince's jester, and that 
I was duller than a great thaw; huddling jest upon jest, 
with such impossible conveyance, upon me, that I stood 
like a man at a mark, with a whole army shooting at me : 
She speaks poniards, and every word stabs: I would not 
marry her though she were endowed with all that Adam 
had left him before he transgressed : she would have made 
Hercules have turned spit ; yea, and have cleft his club to 
make the fire too. Come, talk not of her, you shall find 
her the infernal Ate in good apparel. I would to heaven 
some scholar would conjure her; for, certainly, while she 
is here, a man may live as quiet in hell as in a sanctuary ; 
and people sin upon purpose because they would go 
thither; so, indeed, all disquiet, horror, and perturbation 
follow her. [Laughter within. 

Don P. 
Look, here she comes. 

Bened. 

Will your grace command me any service to the world's 
end ? I will go on the sHghtest errand now to the 
antipodes, that you can devise to send me on; I will 



I 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 3^2 

fetch you a toothpicker now from the farthest inch of 
Asia ; bring you the length of Prester John's foot ; fetch 
you a hair off the great Cham's beard; do you any embas- 
sage to the Pigmies, — rather than hold three words* 
conference with this harpy. — You have no employment for 
me ? 

D07l, P, 

None, but to desire your good company. 

Bened, 

lord, sir, here 's a dish I love not; I cannot endure 
my lady Tongue. \Exit Benedick r. 

\E71ter Beatrice ^ Leonato^ Clatcdio^ and Hero, l. c. 

Don P. 

Come, lady, come ; you have lost the heart of Signior 
Benedick. 

Beat, 

1 have brought Count Claudio, whom you sent me to 
seek. 

Don P. 

Why, how now, count — wherefore are you sad? 

Claud, 
Not sad, my lord. 

Don P. 
How, then — sick? 

Claud, 
Neither, my lord. 

Beat. 

The count is neither sad, nor sick, nor merry, nor well ; 
but civil, count, civil as an orange, and something of that 
jealous complexion. 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. ^^ 

Don I\ 

V faith, lady, I think your blazon to be true; though 
I '11 be sworn, if he be so, his conceit is false. Here, 
Claudio, I have wooed in thy name, and fair Hero is won ; 
I have broke with her father, and his good-will obtained : 
name the day of marriage, and heaven give thee joy ! 

Leon, 

Count, take of me my daughter, and with her my 
fortunes ; his grace hath made the match, and all grace 
say " Amen " to it. 

Beat, 

Speak, count, 't is your cue. 

Claud, 

Silence is the perfectest herald of joy. I were but Httle 
happy if I could say how much. Lady, as you are mine, 
I am yours ; I gave away myself for you, and dote upon 
the exchange. 

Beat. 

Speak, cousin ; or, if you cannot, stop his mouth with a 
kiss, and let not him speak neither. 

Don P. 
In faith, lady, you have a merry heart. 

Beat. 

Yea, my lord, I thank it; poor fool, it keeps on the 
windy side of care. My cousin tells him in his ear that 
he is in her heart. 

Claud. [ Up stage. 

And so she doth, cousin. 



4 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 34 

Beat. [c. 

Good lord, for alliance ! Thus goes every one to the 
wood but I, and I am sunburned; I may sit in a corner 
and cry heigh-ho ! for a husband ! 

Don F, 
Will you have me, lady ? 

Beat. 

No, my lord, unless I might have another for working- 
days ; your grace is too costly to wear every day. But I 
beseech your grace, pardon me ; I was born to speak all 
mirth, and no matter. 

no7i P. 

Your silence most offends me, and to be merry best 
becomes you; for, out of question, you were born in a 
merry hour. 

Beat. 

No, sure, my lord, my mother cried ; but then there was 
a star danced, and under that was I born. — 

Cousins, heaven give you joy ! \To Hero and Claiidio. 

Leon. [To Beatrice, 

Niece, will you look to those things I told you of? 

Beat. 
I cry you mercy, uncle. \Crosses r. 

By your grace's pardon. \To Don Pedro. 

[Beatrice curtseys to Don Pedro, and goes offK. 

Don P. 

By my troth, a pleasant-spirited lady. I would have a 
match between Signior Benedick and the lady Beatrice ; 
and I doubt not but to fashion it, if you three will but 
minister such assistance as I shall give you direction. 



( 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 35 

Leon, 

My lord, I am for you, though it cost me ten nights' 
watchings. 

Claud. 
And I, my lord. 

Don F. 

And you too, gentle Hero ? 

Hero. 

I will do any modest office, my lord, to help my cousin 
to a good husband. 

Don F. 

And Benedick is not the unhopefullest husband that I 
know. Thus far can I praise him ; he is of a noble strain, 
of approved valour, and confirmed honesty. I will teach 
you how to humour your cousin, that she shall fall in love 
with Benedick: — and I, with your two helps, will so 
practise on Benedick, that, in despite of his quick wit and 
his queasy stomach, he shall fall in love with Beatrice. If 
we can do this, Cupid is no longer an archer; his glory 
shall be ours, for we are the only love-gods. Go in with 
me, and I will tell you my drift. 

\Exeunt c. Sce7ie cha?iges. 



s..r>^r. m-i^i^^ f A Hall in Leonato's House. [First 
Scene C!)trt. J grooves.] ^ 

\^Enter Do?i Jo hi aiid Borachio r. 

Don J, 

It is so ; the Count Claudio shall marry the daughter 
of Leonato. 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 36 

Bo rack. 
Yea, my lord, but I can cross it. 

Don J, 

Any bar, any cross, any impediment will be medicinable 
to me : I am sick in displeasure to him ; and whatsoever 
comes athwart his affection ranges evenly with mine. 
How canst thou cross this marriage ? 

B orach. 

Not honestly, my lord ; but so covertly that no dishon- 
esty shall appear in me. 

Don J, 
Show me briefly how. 

Bo7'ach. 

I think I told your lordship, a year since, how much I 
am in the favour of Margaret, the waiting-gentlewoman to 
Hero. 

Don J. 
I remember. 

B orach. 

I can, at any unseasonable instant of the night, appoint 
her to look out at her lady's chamber window. Find me 
a meet hour to draw Don Pedro and the Count Claudio, 
alone : tell them that you know that Hero loves me. They 
will scarcely believe this without trial: ofter them instances; 
which shall bear no less likelihood than to see me at her 
chamber- window ; hear me call Margaret, Hero : hear 
Margaret call me, Borachio; and bring them to see this, 
the very night before the intended wedding : for, in the 
mean time, I will so fashion the matter that Hero shall be 
absent; and there shall appear such seeming truth of 
Hero's disloyalty, that jealousy shall be called assurance, 
and all the preparation overthrown. 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 37 

Don J, 

Grow this to what adverse issue it can, I will put it in 
practice. Be cunning in the working this, and thy fee is 
a thousand ducats. 

B orach. 

Be you constant in the accusation, and my cunning shall 
not shame me. 

Don J, 

I will presently go learn their day of marriage. 

[Exeunt Borachio R., and Dofi John l. Scene 
chancres. 



^cene jFourtb. | 



Leonato's Garden. Benedick discov- 
ered, SEATED. 

Belied, 

I do much wonder that one man, seeing how much 
another man is a fool when he dedicates his behaviours to 
love, will, after he hath laughed at such shallow follies in 
others, become the argument of his own scorn, by falling 
in love: And such a man is Claudio. I have known 
when there was no music with him but the drum and the 
fife ; and now had he rather hear the tabor and the pipe : 
I have known when he would have walked ten mile afoot 
to see a good armour; and now will he lie ten nights 
awake, carving the fashion of a new doublet. He was 
wont to speak plain, and to the purpose, like an honest 
man and a soldier; and now is he turned orthographer ; 
his words are a very fantastical banquet, just so many 
strange dishes. May I be so converted, and see with 
these eyes? I cannot tell; I think not: I will not be 
sworn but love will transform me to an oyster ; but I '11 
take my oath on it, till he have made an oyster of me, 
he shall never make me such a fool. One woman is fair, 

5 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. ^8 

yet I am well; another is wise, yet I am well; another 
virtuous, yet I am well; but till all graces be in one 
woman, one woman shall not come in my grace. Rich she 
shall be, that 's certain ; wise, or 1 '11 none ; virtuous, or I '11 
never cheapen her; fair, or I '11 never look on her; mild, or 
come not near me ; noble, or not I ; of good discourse, 
an excellent musician, and her hair shall be of what colour 
it please heaven. Ha! the prince and Monsieur Love! 
I will hide me in the arbour. [ Withdraws. 

\^Entcr Don Pedro., Leonato^ Claudio and Balthazar., 

R. U. E. 

Don P. [To Claudio. 

See where Benedick hath hid himself. [ To Balthazar. 

Dost thou hear, Balthazar ? I pray thee, get us some 
excellent music ; for to-morrow night wx would have it at 
the lady Hero's chamber-window. 

Bait 
The best I can, my lord. 

Don P. 

Do so : farewell. \Exit Balthazar. 

Come hither, Leonato. What was it you told me of 
to-day ? that your niece Beatrice was in love with Signior 
Benedick ? 

Claud. 

O, ay ! \Aside. 

Stalk on, stalk on : the fowl sits. \To Pedro. 

I did never think that lady w^ould have loved any man. 

Leon. 

No, nor I neither ; but most wonderful that she should 
so doat on Signior Benedick, whom she hath in all outw^ard 
behaviours seemed ever to abhor. 

Be?ted. [Liste?iing i?i arbour. 

Is 't possible ? Sits the wind in that corner. 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 39 

Leon, 

By my troth, my lord, I cannot tell what to think of it ; 
but that she loves him with an enraged aftection, — it is 
past the infinite of thought. 

Don P. 
May be she doth but counterfeit. 

Claud. 
Faith, like enough. 

Leon. 

Counterfeit ! There was never counterfeit of passion 
came so near the life of passion as she discovers it. 

Don P. 
Why, what effects of passion shows she ? 

Claud, [Aside. 

Bait the hook well ; this fish will bite. 

Leon. 

What effects, my lord ! She will sit you — you heard 
my daughter — Hero — tell you how. 

Claud. 
She did, indeed. 

Don P. 

How, how, I pray you ? You amaze me : I would 
have thought her spirit had been invincible against all 
assaults of affection. 

Leon. 

I would have sworn it had, my lord ; especially against 
Benedick. 

Bened. [Aside. 

I should think this a gul], but that the white-bearded 
fellow speaks it ; knavery cannot, sure, hide himself in 
such reverence. 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 40 

Claud, [Aside. 

He hath ta'en the infection ; hold it up. 

Bon F. 
Hath she made her affection known to Benedick ? 

Leon. 
No ; and swears she never will ; that 's her torment. 

Bened. 
So, so! 

Leo)i. 

The ecstasy hath so much overborne her that my 
daughter is sometimes afeard she will do desperate out- 
rage to herself 

Don P. 

It were good that Benedick knew of it by some other, 
if she will not discover it. I pray you tell him, and hear 
what he will say. 

Leo7i, 

Were it good, think you ? 

Don P. 

'Tis very possible he '11 scorn it; for the man, as you 
all know, hath a contemptible spirit. I am sorry for 
your niece. Shall we see Benedick, and tell him of her 
love? 

Bened. 
Very well. 

Claud. 

Never tell him, my lord ; let her w^ear it out with good 
counsel. 

Leon. 

Nay, that 's impossible; she may wear her heart out 
first. 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 4I 

Don F. 

Well, we will hear further of it by your daughter; let it 
cool the while. I love Benedick well ; and I could wish 
he would modestly examine himself, to see how much he 
is unworthy so good a lady. \Bell rings. 

Leon. 
My lord, will you walk ? Dinner is ready. 

Claud. \Aside, 

If he do not dote on her upon this, I will never trust my 
expectation. 

Don P. [Aside. 

Let there be the same net spread for her, and that [ To 
Zeonalo] must your daughter and her gentlewoman carry. 
The sport will be, when they hold an opinion of one 
another's dotage, and no such matter ; that 's the scene 
that I would see. Let us send her to call him to dinner. 
[ Exeimt R. ; Benedick advaJices softly to c. 

Bened. 

This can be no trick : the conference was sadly 
borne. They have the truth of this from Hero. They seem 
to pity the lady; it seems her affections have their full 
bent. Love me ! why, it must be requited. I hear how I 
am censured; they say I will bear myself proudly, if I 
perceive the love come from her : they say too that she 
will rather die than give any sign of affection. I did never 
think to marry. — I must not seem proud. — Happy are 
they that hear their detractions, and can put them to 
mending. They say the lady is fair; 't is a truth, I can 
bear them witness ; and virtuous ; — 't is so, I cannot 
reprove it; and wise — but for loving me: — By my troth, 
it is no addition to her wit, nor no great argument of her 
folly, for I will be horribly in love with her. I may chance 
have some odd quirks and remnants of wit broken on me, 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 42 

because I have railed so long against marriage. But doth 
not the appetite alter ? A man loves the meat in his youth, 
that he cannot endure m his age. Shall quips and sen- 
tences and these paper bullets of the brain awe a man 
from the career of his humour ? No : the world must be 
peopled ! When I said I would die a bachelor, I did not 
think I should Hve till I were married. Here comes Bea- 
trice. By this day, she 's a fair lady : I do spy some 
marks of love in her. 

\Euter Beatrice l. i.e. 
Beat, 

Against my wtII, I am sent to bid you come in to 
dinner. 

Belied. 

Fair Beatrice, I thank you for your pains. 

Beat, 

I took no more pains for those thanks than you take 
pains to thank me; if it had been painful, I would not 
have come. 

Bened. 

You take pleasure, then, in the message ? 

Beat, 

Yea, just so much as you can take upon a knife's point, 
and choke a daw withal. You have no stomach, signior ? 
fare you well. \Exit l. i.e. 

Bened. 

Ha ! ^' Against my will I am sent to bid you come in to 
dinner;" — there 's a double meaning in that. " I took no 
more pains for those thanks than you take pains to thank 
me" — that's as much as to say — any pains that I take 
for you is as easy as thanks. If I do not take pity on her, 
I am a villain ; if I do not love her, I am a Jew. I will 
go get her picture. \Exit l. i . e. 

CURTAIN. 



j 



St^ne jFtrfit* — Leonato's Garden. Same as before. 
\E7iter Hero, Alargaret and Ursula, l. 

Hero. [r. c. 

Good Margaret, run thee into the parlour, 
There shalt thou find my cousin, Beatrice ; 
Whisper her ear, and tell her, I and Ursula 
Walk in the orchard, and our whole discourse 
Is all of her; say that thou overheard'st us; 
And bid her steal into the garden here, 
To listen our purpose. This is thy office, 
Bear thee well in it, and leave us alone. 

[Exit Margaret l. 
Now, Ursula, when Beatrice doth come, 
Our talk must only be of Benedick : 
When I do name him let it be thy part 
To praise him more than ever man did merit. 
My talk to thee must be, how Benedick 
Is sick in love with Beatrice : of this matter 
Is Httle Cupid's crafty arrow made. 
That only wounds by hearsay. 

[Enter Beatrice l., and steals into arbour r. 
Now begin ; [Aside, 

For look where Beatrice, like a lapwing, runs 
Close by the ground, to hear our conference. 

Urs, [c. Aside, 

Fear you not my part of the dialogue. 

[They walk backwards and forwards duri?tg the 
dialogue. 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 44 

Hero. 

No, truly, Ursula, she is too disdainful ; 
I know her spirits are as coy and wild 
As haggards of the rock. 

Urs. 
But are you sure 
That Benedick loves Beatrice so entirely ? 

Hero. 

So says the prince, and my new-trothed lor^. 

They did entreat me to acquaint her of it : 

But I persuaded them, if they loved Benedick, 

To wish him wrestle with affection, 

And never to let Beatrice know of it : 

For, Avho dare tell her ? — 

Nature never framed a woman's heart 

Of prouder stuff than that of Beatrice ; 

Disdain and scorn ride sparkling in her eyes, 

Misprizing what they look on. 

If I should speak. 

She 'd mock me into air; O, she would laugh me 

Out of myself, press me to death with wit. 

Therefore let Benedick, hke covered fire. 

Consume away in sighs, waste inwardly : 

It were a better death than die with mocks. 

Which is as bad as die with tickling. 

Urs. 
Yet tell her of it ; hear what she will say. 

Hero. 

No, rather I will go to Benedick, 
And counsel him to fight against his passion : 
And truly I '11 devise some honest slanders 
To stain my cousin with : one doth not know 
How much an ill word may empoison liking. 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 45 

Urs. 

O, do not do your cousin such a wrong; 

She cannot be so much without true judgment 

(Having so sweet and excellent a wit 

As she is prized to have) as to refuse 

So rare a gentleman as Siguier Benedick. 

Hero. 

Indeed, he hath an excellent good name. 

Urs. 

His excellence did earn it ere he had it. — 
When are you married, madam ? 

Hero. 
Why, in a day; — to-morrow. 

Urs. \Aside. 

She 's limed J I w^arrant you ; we have caught her, madam. 

Hero. \Aside. 

If it proves so, then loving goes by haps ; 
Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps. 

\Excu?it Hero a?id Ursula l. Beatrice advances 
cautiously. 

Beat. 

What fire is in mine ears ? Can this be true ? 
Stand I condemned for pride and scorn so much ? 
Contempt, farewell ! and maiden pride, adieu ! 
No glory lives behind the back of such. 
And, Benedick, love on, I will requite thee : 
Taming my wild heart to thy loving hand ; 
If thou dost love, my kindness shall incite thee 
To bind our loves up in a holy band : 
6 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 46 

P'or Others say, thou dost deserve ; and I 
Beheve it better than reportingly. [Exit l. i.e. 

\Eniey Don Pedro ^ Claiidio^ Leonato^ and Be?iedick, 

R. U. E. 

Bon F. 

I do but stay till your marriage be consummate, and 
then go I toward Aragon. 

Claud, 

I '11 bring you thither, my lord, if you '11 vouchsafe me. 

Don F, [c. 

Nay; I will only be bold with Benedick for his com- 
pany ; for, from the crown of his head to the sole of his 
foot, he is all mirth ; he hath twice or thrice cut Cupid's 
bow-string, and the httle hangman dare not shoot at him ; 
he hath a heart as sound as a bell, and his tongue is the 
clapper; for what his heart thinks, his tongue speaks. 

Bened. [Sighi?ig. 

Gallants, I am not as I have been. 

Leon, 
So say I ! methinks you are sadder. 

Claud, 
I hope he be in love. 

Don F, 

Hang him, truant ! there's no true drop of blood in him, 
to be truly touched with love. If he be sad, he wants 
money. 

Bened, 

I have the tooth-ache. 

Don F, 
Draw it. 



i 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 47 

Bened. [Sighing. 

Hang it ! 

Don R 

What ! sigh for the tooth-ache ? 

Leon. 
Which is but a humour, or a worm ? 

• Bened, 
Well, every one can master a grief, but he that has it. 

Claud. 

Yet say I he is in love. If he be not in love with some 
woman, there is no believing old signs; he brushes his hat 
o' mornings ; what should that bode ? 

Don P. 

Nay, he rubs himself with civet : can you smell him out 
by that ? 

Claud. 

That 's as much as to say, the sweet youth 's in love. 

Don R 
The greatest note of it is his melancholy. 

Claud. 

Nay, but his jesting spirit, which is crept into a lute- 
string 

Don R. 

Indeed, that tells a heavy tale for him. Conclude, con- 
clude, he is in love. 

Claud, 
Nay, but I know who loves him. 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 48 

Don P. 

That would I know too ; I warrant, one that knows him 
not. 

Claiui. 

Yes, and his ill conditions ; and in despite of all, dies for 
him. 

Don F, 
She shall be buried with her face upwards. 

Bened. 

Yet this is no charm for the tooth-ache. — \To Leonato. 
Old signior, walk aside with me, 

1 have studied eight or nine wise words to speak to you, 
which these hobby-horses must not hear. 

\Exeu?it Benedick and Leonato» 

Don P. 
For my life, to break with him about Beatrice. 

Clmid. 

'T is even so : Hero and Margaret have, by this time, 
played their parts with Beatrice ; and then the two bears 
will not bite one another, when they meet. 

\E71ter Do7i John L. 

D07l J. 

My lord and brother, heaven save you ! 

Don P. 
Good den, brother. 

Don J. 

If your leisure served, I would speak with you. 

Don P. 
In private ? 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 49 

Don J. 

If it please you; — yet Count Claudio may hear; for 
what I would speak of concerns him. 

Don R 
What 's the matter ? 

Don J. [ To Claudio. 

Means your lordship to be married to-morrow ? 

DoJi R 
You know, he does. 

Do?i y. 

I know not that, when he knows what I know. 

Claud. 
If there be any impediment, I pray you discover it. 

Don J. 

You may think I love you not ; let that appear here- 
after, and aim better at me by that I now will manifest. 
For my brother, I think he holds you well ; and, in dear- 
ness of heart, hath holp to effect your ensuing marriage ; 
surely, suit ill spent, and labour ill bestowed ! 

Don R 
Why, what 's the matter ? 

Don J. 

I came hither to tell you, and, circumstances shortened, 
for she hadi too long been a-talking of, the lady is disloyal. 

Claud, 
Disloyal ! 

Don J. 

The word is too good to paint out her wickedness : I 
could say she were worse ; think you of a worse title, and 
I will fit her to it. Wonder not till farther warrant : go 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 50 

but with me to-night, you shall see her chamber-window 
entered, even the night before her wedding-day; if you 
love her then, to-morrow wed her; but it would better fit 
your honour to change your mind. 



May this be so ? 
I will not think it. 



Claud, 
Do7i R 
Don J. 



If you dare not trust that you see, confess not that you 
know. If you will follow me, I will show you enough ; 
and when you have seen more, and heard more, proceed 
accordingly. 

Claud, 

If I see anything to-night why I should not marry her 
to-morrow, in the congregation, where I should wed, there 
will I shame her. 

Don P, 

And, as I wooed for thee to obtain her, I will join with 
thee to disgrace her. 

DoJi J. 

I will disparage her no farther, till you are my wit- 
nesses ; bear it coldly but till midnight, and let the issue 
show itself. [Exeunt l. 



\}ttX[Z ^ectinlJ. — Street in Messina. 

[Enter Dogberry, carrying a lanthorn, Verges, Sea- 
coal, Oatcake, and four Watchmen, l. u. e. 



Dogb. 
Are you good men and true ? 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 5 1 

Verg, 

Yea, or else it were pity but they should suffer salvation, 
body and soul. 

Dogb, 

Nay, that were a punishment too good for them, if they 
should have any allegiance in them, being chosen for 
the prince's watch. 

Verg. 

Well, give them their charge, neighbour Dogberry. 

Dogb. 

First, who think you the most desartless man to be con- 
stable ? 

Verg, 

Hugh Oatcake, sir, or George Seacoal ; for they can 
write and read. 

nogb. 

Come hither, neighbour Seacoal : [Crosses c. 

Heaven hath blessed you with a good name : to be a 
well-favoured man is the gift of fortune ; but to write and 
read comes by nature. 

Seac. 

Both which. Master Constable 

Dogb. 

You have : I knew it would be your answer. Well, for 
your favour, sir, why, give heaven thanks, and make no 
boast of it ; and for your writing and reading, let that 
appear when there is no need of such vanity. You are 
thought here to be the most senseless and fit man for the 
constable of the watch; therefore, bear you the lanthorn 
[Gives it] : This is your charge : — You shall comprehend 
all vagrom men ; you are to bid any man stand, in the 
prince's name. 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 52 

Seac, 
How if a will not stand ? 

Dogb, 

Why then, take no note of him, but let him go; and 
presently call the rest of the watch together, and thank 
heaven you are rid of a knave. 

Verg, 

If he will not stand when he is bidden, he is none of the 
prince's subjects. 

Dogb, 

True; and they are to meddle with none but the prince's 
subjects. You shall also make no noise in the streets; for, 
for the watch to babble and talk is most tolerable and not 
to be endured. 

Seac, 

We will rather sleep than talk ; we know what belongs 
to a watch. 

Dogb. 

Why, you speak like an ancient and most quiet watch- 
man, for I cannot see how sleeping should offend : only, 
have a care that your bills be not stolen : — Well you are 
to call at all the alehouses, and bid those that are drunk get 
them to bed. 

Seac. 
How if they will not ? 

Dogb. 

Why then, let them alone till they are sober : if they 
make you not then the better answer, you may say, they 
are not the men you took them for. 

Seac. 
Well, sir. 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 53 

Dogb. 

If you meet a thief, you may suspect him, by virtue of 
your office, to be no true man ; and for such kind of men, 
the less you meddle or make with them, why, the more is 
for your honesty. 

Seac, 

If we know him to be a thief, shall we not lay hands on 
him ? 

Dogb, 

Truly, by your office, you may ; but, I think, they that 
touch pitch will be defiled. The most peaceable way for 
you, if you do take a thief, is, to let him show^ himself what 
he is, and steal out of your company. 

Ver. 
You have been always called a merciful man, partner. 

Dogb. 

Truly, I would not hang a dog by my will ; much more 
a man who hath any honesty in him. 

Ver. 

If you hear a child cry in the night, you must call to the 
nurse, and bid her still it. 

Sea. 
How, if the nurse be asleep, and will not hear us ? 

Dogb. 

Why then, depart in peace, and let the child wake her 
with crying; for the ewe that will not hear her lamb when 
it baes, will never answer a calf when he bleats. 

Ver. 
'T is very true. 

7 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 54 

DoglK 

This is the end of the charge. You, constable, are to 
present the prince's own person ; if you meet the prince in 
the night, you may stay him. 

Ver, 
Nay, by 'r lady, that, I think he cannot. 

Dogb, 

Five shilhngs to one on 't with any man, that knows the 
statutes, he may stay him : marry, not without the prince 
be willing : for, indeed the watch ought to offend no man; 
and it is an offence to stay a man against his will. 

Ve7\ 
By 'r lady, I think it be so. 

Dogb. 

Ha ! ha ! ha ! Well, masters, good-night \Gohig l.] : an 
there be any matter of weight chances, call up me. Keep 
your fellows' counsels and your owti, and good-night. — 
Come, neighbour. \Exeimt Dogberry and Verges l. 

Sea, 

Well, masters, vve hear our charge : let us go sit upon 
the church-bench till two, and then all to bed. 

\Re-enter Dogberry a7td Verges L. 

Dogb, 

One word more, honest neighbours : I pray you, watch 
about Signior Leonato's door; for the wedding being there 
to-morrow, there is a great coil to-night. Adieu ! be 
vigilant, I beseech you, 

\Exeimt onuies — Dogberry and Verges L., the 
Watch R. 



much ado about nothing. 55 

^ Interior of a Chapel. Don Pedro, 

&tPrtt> riThirtt J ^^^ J^^^' LeONATO, FrIAR FrANCIS, 

^cene iiiw^.i Claudio, Benedick, Hero, and Bea- 

[ TRICE, DISCOVERED. 

Come, Friar Francis, be brief; only to the plain form 
of marriage, and you shall recount their particular duties 
afterwards. 

Friar. 

You come hither, my lord, to marry this lady ? 

Clatid. 
No! 

LeoJi. 

To be married to her. Friar ; you come to marry her. 

Friar, 
Lady, you come hither to be married to this Count ? 

Hero. 
I do. 

Friar. 

If either of you know any inward impediment, why you 
should not be conjoined, I charge you, on your souls to 
utter it. 

Claud. 

Know you any. Hero ? 

He7v. 
None, my lord. 

Ftdar, 
Know you any, count ? 

Leon, 
I dare make his answer, none. 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 56 

Claud. 

O ! what men dare do ! what men may do ! what men 
daily do, not knowing what they do ! 

Bened. 
How now ? Interjections ? 

Claud, 
Stand thee by, friar. 

Father, by your leave; \To Leonato, 

Will you, with free and unconstrained soul, 
Give me this maid, your daughter ? 

Lco7i. 
As freely, son, as heaven did give her me. 

Claud. 

And what have I to give you back, whose worth 
May counterpoise this rich and precious gift ? 

Don P. 

Nothing, unless you render her again. 

Claud. 

Sweet prince, you learn me noble thankfulness : 

There, Leonato, take her back again : 

She 's but the sign and semblance of her honour. — 

Behold, now hke a maid she blushes here ! 

Her blush is guiltiness, not modesty. 

Leo7i. 
What do you mean, my lord ? 

Claud. 
Not to be married. 
Not to knit my soul to an approved wanton 



{All start 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 57 

Leon, 

Dear my lord, if you, in your own proof, 

Have vanquished the resistance of her youth 

Claud. 
No, Leonato, 

I never tempted her with word too large ; 
But, as a brother to a sister, showed 
Bashful sincerity, and comely love. 

Hero. 
And seemed I ever otherwise to you ? 

Claud. 

Out on thy seeming ! I will write against it ; 
You seem to me as Dian in her orb ; 

\Benedick retires up stage. 
As chaste as is the bud ere it be blown. 

Hero, 

Is my lord well, that he doth speak so wild ? 

Leon. [To Don Pedro. 

Sweet prince, why speak not you ? 

Don P. 
What should I speak ? 
I stand dishonoured, that have gone about 
To link my dear friend to a wanton here. 

Leo 71. 
Are these things spoken, or do I but dream ? 

Do?i J. 
Sir, they are spoken, and these things are true. 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 58 

Hero, 
True, O heaven ! 

Claud. 
Leonato, stand I here ? 

Is this the prince ? Is this the prince's brother ? 
Is this face Hero's ? Are our eyes our own ? 

Leon, 
All this is so ; but what of this, my lord : 

Claud. 

Let me but move one question to your daughter, 
And, by that fatherly and kindly power 
That you have in her, bid her answer truly. 

Leon. [To Hero. 

I charge thee do so, as thou art my child ! 

Hero. 

O heaven defend me ! how am I beset ! — 
What kind of catechizing call you this ? 

Claud. 
To make you answer truly to your name. 

Hero. 

Is it not Hero ? Who can blot that name 
With any just reproach ? 

Claud. 
Marry, that can Hero ; 
Hero itself can blot out Hero's virtue. 
What man was he talked with you yesternight, 
Out at your window, betwixt twelve and one ? 
Now, if you are a maid, answer to this. 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 59 

Hero. 
I talked with no man at that hour, my lord. 

Do7i F. 
Leonato, 

I am sorry you must hear: — upon mine honour, 
Myself, my brother, and this grieved count, 
Did see her, hear her, at that hour last night, 
Talk with a ruffian at he;- chamber window. 

Boh J, 
Fie, fie ! 

Not to be named, my lord, not to be spoke of! 
Thus, pretty lady, 
I am sorry for thy much misgovernment. 

Claud, 

O Hero, w^hat an angel hadst thou been, 
If half thy outward graces had been placed 
About the thoughts and counsels of thy heart ! 
But, fare thee well, most foul, most fair ! farewell ! 
For thee I '11 lock up all the gates of love. 
And on my eye-lids shall conjecture hang. 
To turn all beauty into thoughts of harm, 
And never shall it more be gracious. 

[Hero swoons in the arms of Beatrice, Exeu7it 
Claudio^ Don Pedro and Don John, 

Leon. 
Hath no man's dagger here a point for me ? 

Beat. 
Why, how now, cousin ? wherefore sink you down ? 

Bened, [Adva?2ci?ig, 

How doth the lady ? 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 6o 

Beat, 

Dead, I think; — help, uncle! 

Hero ! why, Hero ! — uncle ! — Signior Benedick ! — 
Friar ! [ They raise Hero, 

Leon. 

O fate, take not away thy heavy hand ! 
Death is the fairest cover for her shame, 
That may be wished for. 

Beat. 
How now, cousin Hero ? 

Friar, [Adva?icing to c. 

Have comfort, lady. [Nero revives. 

Leo7t. 
Dost thou look up ? 

Friar, 

Yea ; wherefore should she not ? 

Leon. 

Wherefore ? Why, doth not every earthly thing 
Cry shame upon her ? Could she here deny 
The story, that is printed in her blood ! 
Do not live, Hero : do not ope thine eyes; 
For did I think thou wouldst not quickly die, 
Thought I thy spirits were stronger than thy shames, 
Myself, would, on the rearward of reproaches, 
Strike at thy hfe. Grieved I, I had but one ? 
Chid I for that, at frugal nature's frame ? 
O, one too much by thee ! O, she is fallen 
Into a pit of ink ! that the wide sea 
Hath drops too few to wash her clean again ! 

Friar. 
Pause a while, 

And let my counsel sway you in this case. 
Your daughter, here, the princes left for dead ; 
Let her awhile be secretly kept in. 
And publish it that she is dead indeed. 



l^ 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 6l 

Leon. 
What shall become of this ? What will this do ? 

Friar, 

She dying, as it must be so maintained, 

Upon the instant that she was accused, 

Shall be lamented, pitied, and excused 

Of every hearer : — So will it fare with Claudio : 

When he shall hear she died upon his words, 

The idea of her Hfe shall sweetly creep 

Into his study of imagination. 

And every lovely organ of her life 

Shall come apparelled in more precious habit, 

Into the eye and prospect of his soul. 

Than when she lived indeed : — then shall he mourn, 

And wish he had not so accused her ; — 

No, though he thought his accusation true. 

Let this be so, and doubt not but success 

Will fashion the event in better shape 

Than I can lay it down in likelihood. 

Bejied. 

Signior Leonato, let the friar advise you. 

And though you know my inwardness and love 

Is very much unto the prince and Claudio, 

Yet, by mine honour, I will deal in this 

As secretly and justly as your soul 

Should with your body. 

Leo7i. 
Being that I flow in grief, 
The smallest twine may lead me. 

Friar. 

' T is well consented ; presently away ; 

Come, lady, die to live ; this w^edding day, 

Perhaps, is but prolonged ; have patience and endure. 

[Exeunt r., all but Benedick^ and Beatrice. 
8 



I 

i 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 62 

Beucd. 
Lady Beatrice, have you wept all this while ? 

Beat. 
Yea, and I will weep awhile longer. 

Be?ied. \Adva7ices to her, 

I will not desire that. 

Beat. 

You have no reason : I do it freely. 

Bened. 
Surely I do believe your fair cousin is wronged. 

Beat. 

Ah, how much might the man deserve of me, that 
would right her. 

Belied. 

Is there any way to show such friendship ? 

Beat. 
A very even way, but no such friend. 

Bened. 
May a man do it ? 

Beat. 

It is a man's office, but not yours. 

Bened. \Pausmg. 

I do love nothing in the world so well as you. Is not 
that strange ? 

Beat. 

As strange as the thing I know not. It were as possible 
for me to say, I loved nothing so well as you : but, believe 
me not ; and yet I lie not ; I confess nothing, nor I deny 
nothing : — I am sorry for my cousin. 



i 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 6^ 

Be?ied, 
By my sword, Beatrice, thou lovest me ! 

Beat, 
Do not swear by it, and eat it. 

Bened. 

I will swear by it, that you love me ; and I will make 
him eat it that says I love not you. 

Beat 
Will you not eat your word ? 

Bened, 

With no sauce that can be devised to it ; I protest I 
love thee ! 

Beat, 

Why, then, heaven forgive me ! 

Bened. 
What offence, sweet Beatrice ? 

Beat, 

You have stayed me in an happy hour; I was about to 
protest I loved you. 

Bened. 
And do it, with all thy heart ! 

Beat, 

I love you with so much of my heart that none is left 
to protest. 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 64 

Bened, 
Come, bid me do any thing for thee. 

Beat. 
KillClaudio! 

Be?ied, 
Ha! not for the wide world! 

Beat 
You kill me to deny it: — farewell! [Going r. 

Be?ied. 
Tarry, sweet Beatrice! 

Beat. 

I am gone, though I am here: — there is no love in 
you : — Nay, I pray you, let me go. 

Bened, 

Beatrice 

Beat. 
In faith, I will go ! 

Bened. 
We '11 be friends first. \Follows and detains her. 

Beat. 

You dare easier be friends with me than fight wath mine 
enemy. 

Bened, 
Is Claudio thine enemy ? 

Beat. 

Is he not approved in the height a villain, that hath 
slandered, scorned, dishonoured my kinswoman ? — O, that 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 65 

I were a man! — What! bear her in hand until they come 
to take hands, and then, with pubUc accusation, uncovered 
slander, unmitigated rancour — O heaven, that I were a 
man! I would eat his heart in the market-place. 

Be?ied. 
Hear me, Beatrice. 

Beat. 

Talk with a man out at a window ? — a proper saying ! 

Belied. 

Nay, but Beatrice 

Beat. 

Sweet Hero ! — she is wTonged, she is slandered, she is 
undone ! 

Belied. 

Beat 

Beat. 

Princes and counties! Surely, a princely testimony, a 
goodly count confect, a sweet gallant, surely ! O that I 
were a man, for his sake ! or that I had any friend, would 
be a man for my sake ! But manhood is melted into 
courtesies, valour into compliment, and men are only 
turned into tongues, and trim ones too : he is now as valiant 
as Hercules, that only tells a lie, and swears it. — I cannot 
be a man with w^ishing, therefore I will die a woman with 
grieving. 

Bened. 

Tarry, good Beatrice : — By this hand I love thee ! 

Beat. 
Use it for my love, some other way than swearing by it. 

Bejied. 

Think you, in your soul, the Count Claudio hath 
wronged Hero ? 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 66 

Beat 
Yea, as sure as I have a thought or a soul! 

Be?ied. 
Enough! I am engaged; I will challenge him. 

Beat 

Will you? 

Be7ied, 

Upon my soul I will. I '11 kiss your hand, and so leave 
you. By this hand Claudio shall render me a dear 
account. 

Beat 

You '11 be sure to challenge him ? 

Be7ied, 
By those bright eyes I will. 

Beat 
My dear friend ! kiss my hand again. 

Bened, 

As you hear of me, so think of me. Go, comfort your 
cousin: I must say she is dead; and so farewell. 

Beat 
Benedick, kill him, kill him dead, if you can. 

Bened, 

As sure as he is alive, I will ! 

\Exeunt Beatrice r., Benedick l. 

CURTAIN. 



( Interior of a Prison. Dogberry, Ver- 
^ttnt jFirst } ges, Seacoal, and Oatcake discov- 

( ERED, SEATED L. OF TaBLE. 

Dogd. 

Is our whole dissembly appeared ? 

\E71ter Sexton L. 
Ver. 

O, a stool and a cushion for the sexton ! 

Sext, 
Which be the malefactors ? 

Dogb. 
Marry, that am I and my partner. 

Ver. 
Nay, that 's certain ; we have the exhibition to examine. 

Sext. 

But which are the offenders that are to be examined ? 
let them come before Master Constable. 

\^0pe7is book and prepares to write, 

Dogb. 

Yea, marry, let them come before me. 

\Enter Watchuiaji^ b7iiiging in Borachio and Con- 
rade r. 
What is your name, friend ? [ To BoracJiio. 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 68 

B orach. 
Borachio. 

Dogb, 

Pray write down Borachio. Yours, sirrah ? 

Con, 
I am a gentleman, sir, and my name is Conrade. 

Dogb. 

Write down master gentleman Conrade. — Masters, do 
you serve heaven ? 

Con, and Borach, 

Yes, sir, we hope 

Dogb. 

Write down, that they hope they serve heaven — and 
write heaven first: for heaven defend but heaven should 
go before such villains! Masters, it is proved already 
that you are little better than false knaves ; and it will go 
near to be thought so shortly. How answer you for your- 
selves ? 

Con, 

Marry, sir, we say we are none. 

Dogb, 

A marvellous witty fellow, I assure you! — but I will go 
about wdth him. Come you hither, sirrah! a word in 
your ear, sir; I say to you, it is thought you are false 
knaves. 

Borach, 

Sir, I say to you, we are none. 

Dogb. 

Well, stand aside — Tore heaven they are both in a tale ! 
Have you writ down that they are none ? 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHINc;. 69 

Sext. 

Master Constable, you go not the way to examine ; you 
must call forth the watch that are their accusers. 

Bogb. 

Yea, marry, that 's the eftest way. Let the watch stand 
forth: — Masters, I charge you, m the prince's name, 
accuse these men ! 

Seac, 

This man said, sir, that Don John, the prince's brother, 
was a villain. 

Bogb. 

Write down, — Prince John, a villain. — Why, that is flat 
perjury, to call a prince's brother villain ! 

B orach. 

Master Constable 

Bogb, 

Pray thee, fellow, peace ! — I do not like thy look, I 
promise thee. 

Sext. 
What heard you him say else ? 

Oat 

Marry, that he had received a thousand ducats of Don 
John, for accusing the lady Hero wrongfully. 

Bogb. 
Flat burglary, as ever was committed ! 

Verg, 

Yea, by the mass, that it is ! 
9 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 70 

Scxt. 
What el.e, fellow ? 

Seac. 

And that Count Claudio did mean, upon his words, to 
disgrace Hero before the whole assembly, and not marry 
her. 

Dogb. 

O villain ! thou wilt be condemned into everlasting 
redemption for this. 

Sext. 
What else ? 

Seac. 
This is all. 

Sext. 

And this is more, masters, than you can deny. Pnnce 
John is this morning secretly stolen away : Hero was in 
this manner accused, in this very manner refused, and, 
upon the grief of this, suddenly died. Master Constable, 
let these men be bound, and brought to Leonato's; I will 
go before, and show him their examination. \Exit r. 

Dogb. 

Come, let them be opinioned. Come, bind them. Thou 
naughty varlet ! 

[ Conrade and Borachio are bounds singly. 

Con. \To Dogberry. 

Away, you are an ass ! you are an ass ! 

Dogb. 

Dost thou not suspect my place ? Dost thou not suspect 
my years ? O that he were here, to write me down an ass ! 
— but masters, remember that I am an ass; though it be 
not written down, yet forget not that I am an ass : — No, 
thou villain, thou art full of piety, as shall be proved upon 
thee by good witness ! I am a wise fellow ; and, which is 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. ?! 

more, an officer; and, which is more, a householder; and, 
which is more, as pretty a piece of tiesh as any in Messina ; 
and one that knows the law, go to; and a rich fellow 
enough, go to ; and a fellow that hath had losses ; and one 
that hath two gowns, and every thing handsome about 
him. — Bring him away. O that I had been writ down 
an ass ! \Exeu?it, Scene changes. 



<SL. a. N, ( The Court before Leonato's House. 

\Enter Leonato and Antonio r. u. e. 

Ant. 

If you go on thus, you will kill yourself; 
And 't is not wisdom thus to second grief 
Against yourself. 

Leon, 

I pray thee, peace ; I will be flesh and blood ; 

For there was never yet philosopher 

That could endure the tooth-ache patiently, 

However they have writ the style of gods. 

My soul doth tell me Hero is belied ; 

And that shall Claudio know, so shall the prince, 

And all of them, that thus dishonour her. 

Ant, 

Here comes the prince, and Claudio, hastily. 

[Enter Don Pedro and Claudio l., and cross to R. 

Don P. 
Good den, good den. 

Claud. 

Good day to both of you. 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 72 

Leo7i. 

Hear you, my lords , 

Don P, 

We have some haste, Leonato. 

Leo? I, 

Some haste, my lord! — well, fare you well, my lord: 
Are you so hasty now? — well, all is one. 

Don P. 
Nay, do not quarrel with us, good old man. 

Ant. 

If he could right himself with quarrelling, 
Some of us w^ould lie low\ 

Claud. 
Who wTongs him ? 

Leon. 

Marry, thou dost wTong me, thou, dissembler thou ! 

\Clandio grasps his S7C>ord, 
Nay, never lay thy hand upon thy sword ; 
I fear thee not. 

Claud. 

Marry, beshrew my hand. 

If it should give your age such cause of fear. 

In faith, my hand meant nothing to my sword. 

Leon. 

Tush, tush, man ! Never fleer and jest at me ! 

I speak not like a dotard, nor a fool. 

As, under privilege of age, to brag 

What I have done being young, or what w^ould do, 

Were I not old : know, Claudio, to thy head, 

Thou hast so wTonged mine innocent child, and me. 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 73 

That I am forced to lay my reverence by ; 

And, with grey hairs, and bruise of many days, 

Do challenge thee to trial of a man ; — \Draws his sword. 

I say, thou hast belied mine innocent child. 

Don R 

You say not right, old man. 

Leo? I. 
My lord, my lord, 

I '11 prove it on his body, if he dare ; 
Despite his nice fence, and his active practice, 
His May of youth and bloom of lustyhood. 

Claud. 
Away, I will not have to do with you ! 

Bon P. 

Gentlemen both, we will not wake your patience. 
My heart is sorry for your daughter's death ; 
But, on my honour, she was charged with nothing 
But what was true, and very full of proof 

Leon, 
My lord, my lord 

Don P. 
I will not hear you. 

Leo? I. 
No? 
Come brother, away. — I will be heard ! 

A?it. 
And shall, 
Or some of us will smart for it. 

\Exen?it Leonato a?id A?ito?iio l. u. e. 



i 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 74 

Don R 

See, see, 

Here comes the man we went to seek ! 

\Enter Benedick l. 
Claud, [c. 

Now, signior, what news ? 

Bened. [l. 

Good day, my lord. [ To Don Pedro, 

Don P. 

Welcome, signior ! You are almost come to part almost 
a fray. 

Claud. 

We had like to have had our two noses snapped off, 
with two old men without teeth. 

Don P, 

Leonato and his brother. What think'st thou ? Had 
we fought, I doubt, we should have been too young for 
them. 

Bened. 

In a false quarrel, there is no true valour. I came to 
seek you both. 

Claud, 

We have been up and dowai to seek thee; for w^e are 
high-proof melancholy, and w^ould fain have it beaten 
away. Wilt thou use thy wit ? 

Bened. 
It is in my scabbard ; shall I draw it ? 

Don P. 

Dost thou w^ear thy wit by thy side ? As I am an hon- 
est man, he looks pale. — Art thou sick, or angry ? 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 75 

Claud. 

What ! courage, man ! What, though care killed a cat, 
thou hast metal enough m thee to kill care. 

Bened. 

Sir, I shall meet your wit in the career, an you charge 
it against me; — I pray you, choose another subject. I 
don't like it. 

Don P. 

By this light, he changes more and more ! I think, he 
' be angry, indeed ! {Retires up stage, 

Claud. 

If he be, he knows how to turn his girdle. 

Bened. 
Shall I speak a word in your ear ? 

Claud. 
Heaven bless me from a challenge ! 

Bened. 

You are a villain! I jest not — I will make it good, 
how you dare, with what you dare, and when you dare : 
— do me right, or I will protest your cowardice. You have 
killed a sweet lady, and her death shall fall heavy upon 
you ! Let me hear from you. 

Claud. 
Well, I will meet you, so I may have good cheer. 

Don P. [Advancing. 

What, a feast, a feast ! 



i 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 76 

Claud, 

V faith, I thank him, he hath bid me to a calf 's-head 
and a capon ; the which, if I do not carve most curiously, 
say my knife ^s naught. 

Bened. 

Sir, your wit ambles well ; it goes easily. 

Don P. 

But when shall we set the savage bull's horns on the 
sensible Benedick's head ? 

Claud. 

Yea, and text underneath : ^' Here dwells Benedick, the 
married man ! '^ 

Bened. 

Fare you well, boy! you know my mind. I will leave 
you now to your gossip-like humour: you break jests as 
braggarts do their blades, which, heaven be thanked, hurt 
not! — My lord [Tl' Don Pedro\ for your many courtesies, 
I thank you : I must discontinue your company : your 
brother is fled from Messina; you have, among you, 
killed a sweet and innocent lady : for my lord Lackbeard 
there, he and I shall meet, and till then, peace be with 
him ! [Exit, 

Bon P. 



He is in earnest. 



Claud. 



In most profound earnest ; and, I '11 warrant you, for 
the love of Beatrice ! 

Don P. 

And hath challenged thee ? 

Claud. 
Most sincerely ! 

\Enter Dogberry^ Verges., with Conrade ami Bora- 
chio bound., followed by Seacoal, Oatcake, and 
Watchrnen, r. One of the Watchmen goes off 

L. U. E. 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 77 

Dogb. 

Come you, sir! if justice cannot tame you, she shall ne'er 
weigh more reasons in her balance; nay, an you be a 
cursing hypocrite once, you must be looked to. 

Don R 

How now, two of my brother's men bound ! Borachio 
o\\^ ! 

Claud, 
Harken after their offence, my lord. 

D07l P. 

Officers, what offence have these men done ? 

Dogb. 

Marry, sir, they have committed false report: moreover, 
they have spoken untruths; secondarily, they are slan- 
derers ; sixth and lastly, they have belied a lady ; thirdly, 
they have verified unjust things; and, to conclude, they 
are lying knaves. 

Don P. 

First, I ask thee, what they have done ? thirdly, I ask 
thee, what 's their offence ? sixth and lasdy, why they are 
committed? and, to conclude, what you lay to their 
charge ? 

Claud. 

Rightly reasoned, and in his own division. 

Don P. \ To the Priso7iers. 

Whom have you offended, masters, that you are thus 
bound to your answer ? This learned constable is too 
cunning to be understood : — what 's your offence ? 

ID 



1 



MUCH AUO ABOUT NOTHING. 78 

B orach. 

Sweet prince, let me go no further to mine answer ; do 
you hear me, and let this count kill me. I have deceived 
even your very eyes ; what your wisdoms could not dis- 
cover, these shallow fools have brought to light ; who, in 
the night, overheard me confessing to this man how Don 
John, your brother, incensed me to slander the lady Hero; 
how you were brought into the orchard, and saw me court 
Margaret, in Hero's garments; how you disgraced her, 
when you should marry her : my villainy they have upon 
record, which I had rather seal wTth my death than repeat 
over to my shame ; the lady is dead, upon mine and my 
master's false accusation ; and briefly, I desire nothing but 
the reward of a villain. 

Do7i F, [ 2o CI audio. 

Runs not this speech like iron through your blood ? 

Claud. 
I have drunk poison whiles he uttered it. 

Don P. 
But did my brother set thee on to this ? 

B orach. 
Yea, and paid me richly for the practice of it. 

Don R 

He is composed and framed of treachery : and fled he 
is upon this villainy. 

Claud, 

Sw^eet Hero ! now thy image doth appear 
In the rare semblance that I loved it first. 

Dogb. 

Come, bring away the plaintiffs ; by this time, our sexton 
hath reformed Signior Leonato of the matter; and, mas- 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 79 

ters, do not forget to specify, when time and place shall 
serve, that I am an ass. 

Verg. 

Here comes Master Signior Leonato, and the sexton too. 
\E71ter Leonato^ Servants and the Sexton^ l. 

Leon. 

Which is the villain ? Let me see his eyes ; 
That, when I note another man like him, 
I may avoid him : which of these is he ? 

B orach. 
If you would know your wronger, look on me. 

Leon. 

Art thou the slave, tliat, with thy breath, hast killed 
Mine innocent child ? 

B orach. 
Yea — even I alone. 

Leon. 

No, not so, villain ; thou behest thyself; 
Here stand a pair of honourable men, 
A third is fled, that had a hand in it : 

[ Tiirjiing to Clatidio and Don Pedro. 
I thank you, princes, for my daughter's death ; 
Record it with your high and worthy deeds; 
'Twas bravely done, if you bethink you of it. 

Claud. 

I know not how to pray your patience. 

Yet I must speak : Choose your revenge yourself; 

Impose me to what penance your invention 

Can lay upon my sin ; yet sinned I not. 

But in mistaking. 



MUCH ADC) ABOUT NOTHING. 8o 

Don P. 
By my soul, nor I ; 
And yet, to satisfy this good old man, 
I would bend under any heavy weight 
That he '11 enjoin me to. 

Leo7i. 

I cannot bid you bi'd my daughter live, 

1 hat w^ere impossible ; but, I pray you both. 

Possess the people in Messina here 

How innocent she died ; 

To-morrow morning come you to my house ; 

And, since you could not be my son-in-law. 

Be yet my nepliew : my brother hath a daughter, 

Almost a copy of my child that 's dead, 

And she alone is heir to both of us; 

Give her the right you should have given her cousin, 

And so dies my revenge. 

Claud. 
O, noble sir. 

Your over-kindness doth wring tears from me 1 
I do embrace your offer, and dispose 
For henceforth of poor Claudio. 

Leoji. 

To-morrow, then, I will expect your coming. 
To-night I take my leave. 

\Exeunt Don Fedfv and Claudio. 
This naughty man 
Shall face to face be brought to Margaret. 

Dogb. 

Moreover, sir, which, indeed, is not under white and 
black, this plaintiff here, the offender, did call me an ass : 
I beseech you, let it be remembered in his punishment. 
And also the watch heard them talk of one Deformed — 
pray you examine him upon that point. 



iMUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. Si 

Leofi, 
I thank thee for thy care and honest pains. 

Dogb. 

Your worship speaks Hke a most thankful and reverend 
youth ; and I praise heaven for you ! 

Leon. 
There 's for thy pains. [Giving money. 

Dogb, 

Heaven save the foundation ! 

Leon. 
Go, I discharge thee of thy prisoners, and I thank thee. 

Dogb, 

I leave an arrant knave with your worship, which, I 
beseech your worship, to correct yourself for the example of 
others. Heaven keep your worship — I wish your wor- 
ship well. Heaven restore you to health ! I humbly give 
you leave to depart; and, if a merry meeting may be 
wished, heaven proiiibit it ! Come, neighbour. 

[Exeunt Dogberry, Verges, the Sexton, Sea coal, 
Oatcake, and the Watch, l. 

Leo7i. [To Servants. 

Bring you these fellows on : we '11 talk with Margaret. 

[Exeunt l. u. e. 



bcene Cl&irt* — A Hall in Leonato's House. 

[Enter Benedick l. 
Bened. 
Hist ! Hist 1 Beatrice ! [Enter Beatrice r. 

Sweet Beatrice, wouldst thou come when I called thee ? 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 82 

Beat. 
Yea, signior, and depart when you bid me. 

Bencd. 
O, stay but till then ! 

Beat. 

^' Then" is spoken; fare you well now : — and yet, ere I 
go, let me go with that I came for, which is, with knowing 
what hath passed between you and Claudio. 

Be7ied. 

Claudio undergoes my challenge; and either I must 
shortly hear from him, or I will subscribe him a coward. 
And I pray thee now, tell me, for which of my bad parts 
didst thou first fall in love with me ? 

Beat. 

For them all together ; which maintained so politic a 
state of evil, that they will not admit any good part to 
intermingle with them. But for which of my good parts 
did you first suffer love for me ? 

Bened. 

Suffer love; a good epithet! I do suffer love, indeed, 
for I love thee against my will. 

Beat. 

In spite of your heart, I think ! alas ! poor heart ! If 
you spite it for my sake, I will spite it for yours ; for 1 will 
never love that which my friend hates. 

Bened. 
Thou and I are too wise to w^oo peaceably. 



MUCH A.)0 ABOUT NOTHING. S;^ 

Beat, 

It appears not in this confession ; there 's not one wise 
man among twenty that will praise himself. 

Bened. 

An old, an old instance, Beatrice, that lived in the time 
of good neighbours. If a man do not erect, in this age, 
his own tomb ere he dies, he shall live no longer in monu- 
ment than the bell rings and the widow weeps. 

Beat 

And how long is that, think you ? 

Be/ied. 

Why, an hour in clamour, and a quarter in rheum. And 
now tell me, how doth your cousin ? 





Beat 


Very ill. 






Bened. 


And how do you ? 






Beat 


Very ill too. 





Be?ied. 

Serve heaven, love me, and mend. 

Here comes one in haste. \Ejiter Ursula l. i. e. 

Urs. 

Madam, you must come to your uncle ; it is proved my 
lady Hero hath been falsely accused, the prince and 
Claudio mightily abused, and Don John is the author of 
all, who is fled and gone. S^Exit Ursula l. 

Beat 

Will you go hear this news, signior ? 



ii 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 84 

Bened. 

I will live in thy eyes, die in thy lap, and be buried in 
thy heart ; and, moreover, I will go with thee to thy uncle. 

\Exciiiit L. 



A Spacious Hall in Leonato's House. 
^ttxxt fntirth i I-EONATO, Hero, Friar, Antonio, 
S)ccnc jrounp^s Benedick, Beatrice, Ursula, and 
(^ Lords and Ladies discovered. 

Fria?\ 
Did not I tell you she was innocent ? 

Leon. 

So are the prince and Claudio, who accused her, 
Upon the error that you heard debated : 
But Margaret was in some fault for this ; 
Although against her will, as it appears. 

Ant, 
Well, I am glad that all things sort so well. 

Bened, 

And so am I, being else by faith enforced 
To call young Claudio to a reckoning for it. 

Leon. 

[ To the Ladies., who stand r. 
Well, daughter, and you gentlewomen, all, 
Withdraw into a chamber by yourselves ; 
And, when I send for you, come hither, masked : 
The prince and Claudio promised by this hour 
To visit me. 

[Exeujit Beatrice, LLero, and all the Ladies, r. 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 85 

You know your office, brother ; 

You must be father to your brother's daughter, 

And give her to young Claudio. 

A7lt 

Which I will do with confirmed countenance. 

Bened, 
Friar, I must entreat your pains, I think. 

Friar, 
Vo do what, signior ? 

Bened. 

To bind me, or undo me; one of them. — 
Signior Leonato, truth it is, good signior. 
Your niece regards me with an eye of favour. 

Leo7i. 
That eye my daughter lent her : 't is most true. 

Bened. 
And I do with an eye of love requite her. 

LeoJi, 

The sight whereof, I think, you had from me, 

P>om Claudio and the prince. But what 's your will ? 

Bened. 

Your answer, sir, is enigmatical : 

But for my w^ll, my will is, your good-will 

May stand wirh ours, this day to be conjoined 

In the estate of honourable marriage ; — 

In which, good friar, I shall desire your help. 

Leo 71. 

My heart is with your liking. 
II 



MUCH ADO ABOU'J" NOTHING. S6 

Friar, 
And my help. 
Here comes the prince and Claudio. 

\Enter Do?i Pedro, Claudia, and Attendants, L. 

Don R 

Good-morrow to this fair assembly. 

Leon. 

We here attend you : are you yet determined 
To-day to marry with my brother's daughter ? 

Claud. 
I '11 hold my mind, were she an Ethiop. 

Leo? I. 

Call her forth, brother : here 's the friar ready. 

\Exit Antonio. 
Don P. 

Good-morrow, Benedick : why, what 's the matter. 
That you have such a February face, 
So full of frost, of storm, and cloudiness ? 

Claud. 

I think he thinks upon the savage bull : — 

Tush ! fear not, man, we '11 tip thy horns with gold. 

Bejied, 
O, here they come ! 

[Enter Aiitonio, with LLero, Beatrice, Ursula, and 
other Ladies, masked, and wearing dominoes. 

Claud. 
Which is the lady I must seize upon ? 



\Presenti7ig Hero, 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 87 

A?lt, 

This same is she, and I do give you her. 

Claud, 
Another Hero ? 

Hero. 
Nothing certainer; 

One Hero died defiled, but I do Hve, 
And, surely as I live, 1 am innocent. 

Don R 
The former Hero I Hero, that is dead ! 

Leon. 
She died, my lord, but whiles her slander lived. 

Friar. 

All this amazement can I qualify ; 
When, after that the holy rites are ended, 
I '11 tell you largely of fair Hero's death : 
Meantime, let wonder seem familiar, 
And to the chapel let us presently. 

Bened. 
Soft and fair, friar. Which is Beatrice ? 

Beat. 
I answer to that name. 

[Beatrice ajid the other Ladies unmask. 
What is your will ? 

Bened, 
Do you not love me ? 

Beat, 

No ; no more than reason. 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 88 

Bcjicd, 

Why, then, your uncle, and the prince, and Claudio, 
Have been deceived — they swore you did. 

Beat. 
Do not you love me ? 

Belied. 

Troth, no ; no more than reason. 

Beat, 

Why, then, my cousin, Margaret, and Ursula, 
Are much deceived, for they did swear you did. 

Beiicd. 
They swore that you were almost sick for me. 

Beat. 
They swore that you were well nigh dead for me. 

Bened. 
'T is no such matter: — Then, you do not love me ? 

Beat. 
No, truly, but in friendly recompense. 

Leoii. 
Come, cousin. I am sure you love the gentleman. 

Claud. 

And I '11 be sworn upon 't that he loves her ; 

For here 's a paper, written in his hand, 

A halting sonnet of his own pure brain. 

Fashioned to Beatrice. [Gives the paper to Beatrice. 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 89 

Hero. 
And here 's another, 

Writ in my cousin's hand, stolen from her pocket, 
Containing her affection unto Benedickc 

\Gives tJie paper to Benedick. 

Beiied. 

A miracle I — here 's our own hands against our hearts I 
Come, I will have thee ; but, by this light, 1 take thee for 
pity. 

Beat. 

I would not deny you; — but, by this good day, I yield 
upon great persuasion ; and, partly, to save your life ; for 
I was told you were in a consumption. 

Bened. 
Peace, I will stop your mouth. 

Don P. 

How dost thou, Benedick, the married man ? \AIl lau^^h. 

Bened. 

I '11 tell thee w^hat, prince, a college of wit-crackers can- 
not flout me out of my humour. — Claudio, I did think to 
have beaten thee ; but, in that thou art like to be my kins- 
man ; live unbruised, and love my cousin. Prince, thou 
art sad. 

Don P. 

Yes, I 've got the tooth-ache. [A// lain^/i. 

Bened. 

Got the tooth-ache! Get thee a wife : and all will be 
well. Nay, laugh not, laugh not. 

Your jibes and mockeries I laugh to scorn : 
No staff more reverend than one tipt with horn. 

CURTAIN. 




i 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHINC;. 

APPENDIX. 

I. — The Meaning and the Characters of Much Aixx 

<< r I aHE title is not to be understood in an external sense merely ; it 
I rather indicates the inherent nothingness of human life, when- 
ever its hopes terminate in mere earthly interests and relations. 
Every one of us makes much ado about nothing, in this life, so long as he 
is unable, by the annihilation of the terrestrial naught, to attain to the 
eternal realities which he lias within himself. '"^ * •■ '^ English 
critics, after Steevens, have reproached our poet w ith repeating himself, 
and playing off the same trick upon Beatrice and Benedick. But it is 
evident that this uniformity was required, by die great resemblance which 
these two characters bear to each other, and also by the necessity of 
avoiding any further complication of a plot already sufficiently involved. 
^ '^ * * The poet seems to have drawn his ground idea from a con- 
templation of the contrast which human life presents between the reality 
of outward objects and the perception of the inward subject — between 
that which the world really is, and that which it appears to those who yet 
live in it and have experience of it. ^^ '^'' '^ ^ The most oidinary and 
insignificant matters and circumstances are arrayed in all the pomp of 
form,' and, by the personages of the drama, stuffed out with the gravest 
possible importance. -^ * * ^ This contrast between the objective 
reality and the subjective apprehension of things is most amusingly set 
forth and embodied in the senseless and stupid Dogberry, -^f * * * 
The comic humour of chance chooses to employ the silliest and most 
ridiculous of simpletons to bring to light what no doubt lay near enough 
to the surface, but nevertheless escaped the discernment of the cleverest." 

Uerici. 



"The war at the opening begins without reason and ends without 
result. Don Pedro seems to woo Hero for himself, while he gains her 
for his friend. Benedick and Beatrice, after carrying on a merry cam- 



92 APPENDIX. 

paign of words, without real enmity, are entrapped into a marriage, with- 
out real love. The leading story rests on a seeming faithlessness, and 
its results are a seeming death and funeral, a challenge which produces 
no fighting, and a marriage in which the bride is a pretender ; and the 
weakness and shadowiness of human wishes and plans are exposed with 
yet more cutting irony in the means that bring about the fortunate 
catastrophe, — an incident in which the unwitting agents, headed by 
Dogberry, the very representative of the idea of the piece, are the lowest 
and most stupid characters of the whole group." 

Edinburgh Review. 



" The players of the game of life see nothing ; but the dullest bystander 
has glimpses of something more." Knight. 



" The chief persons. Hero and Claudio, Beatrice and Benedick, are 
contrasted pairs. Hero's character is kept subdued and quiet in tone, 
to throw out the force and colour of the character of Beatrice ; she is 
gentle, affectionate, tender, and. if playful, playful in a gentle way. If 
our interest in Hero were made very strong, the pain of her unmerited 
shame and suffering would be too keen. And Claudio is far from being 
a lover like Romeo : his wooing is done by proxy, and he does not sink 
under the anguish of Hero's disgrace and supposed death. Don John, 
the villain of the piece, is a melancholy egoist, who looks sourly on all 
the world, and has a special grudge against his brother's young favourite. 
Claudio. The chief force of Shakespeare in the play comes out in the 
characters of Benedick and Beatrice. They have not a touch of misan- 
thropy nor of sentimentahty, but are thoroughly healthy and hearty 
human creatures ; at first a little too much self-pleased, but framed by 
and by to be entirely pleased with one another. * ^ * ^ It is a 
charming incongruity to find, while Leonato rages and Benedick offers 
his challenge, that the solemn ass Dogberry is the one to unravel the 
tangled threads of their fate. * * * * Friar Francis is a near spirit- 
ual kinsman of Friar Lawrence, in 'Romeo and Juliet.' " Dowde-nt. 



" In Beatrice high intellect and high animal spirits meet, and excite 
each other, like fire and air. In her wit [which is brilliant without being 
imaginative] there is a touch of insolence, not unfrequent in women 
when the wit predominates over reflection and imagination. In her 



APPENDIX. 93 

temper, too, there is a slight infusion of the termagant, and her satirical 
humour plays with such an unrespective levity over all subjects alike 
that it required a profound knowledge of women to bring such a 
character within the pale of our sympathy. But Beatrice, though wilful, 
is not wayward. She has not only an exuberance of wit and gaiety, but 
of heart and soul, of energy and spirit. * * ^ Benedick is by far the 
most pleasing, because the independence and gay indifference of temper, 
the laughing defiance of love and marriage, the satirical freedom of 
expression, common to both, are more becoming to the masculine than 
ro the feminine character. -^ ^ ^ The wit of Beatrice is less good- 
humoured than that of Benedick ; or, from the difference of sex, appears 
so. It is observable that the power is, throughout, on her side, and the 
sympathy and interest on his; which, by reversing the usual order of 
things, seems to excite us ' against the grain.' ^ * ^ She cannot for 
a moment endure his neglect, and he can as little tolerate her scorn. 
* * * In the midst of all this tilting and sparring of their nimble and 
fiery wits, we find them infinitely anxious for the good opinion of each 
other, and secretly impatient of each other's scorn ; but Beatrice is the 
most truly indifferent of the two — the most assured of herself. * * * 
The affection of Benedick induces him to challenge his intimate friend 
for her sake, but the affection of Beatrice does not prevent her from 
risking the hfe of her lover. * * * Beatrice more charms and dazzles 
us by what she is than by what she says. * * * We dismiss Bene- 
dick and Beatrice to their matrimonial bonds rather with a sense of 
amusement than a feeling of congratulation or sympathy ; rather with an 
acknowledgment that they are well matched and worthy of each other, 
than with any well-founded expectation of their domestic tranquillity." 

Mrs. Jameson. 



"In the comedies of Shakespeare the wit plays and dazzles like 
dancing light. * ^ ^ g^t ^jg humour was still more his own than his 
wit. In that rich but delicate and subtle spirit of drollery, — moistening 
and softening whatever it touches, like a gentle oil, and penetrating, 
through all infoldings and rigourous incrustments, into the kernel of the 
ludicrous that is in everything, — which mainly created Malvolio, and 
Shallow, and Slender, and Dogberry, and Verges, and Bottom, and 
Lancelot, and Launce, and Costard, and Touchstone, and a score of 
other clowns, fools, and simpletons, and which, gloriously overflowing 
in Falstaff, makes his wit exhilarate like wine, Shakespeare has had 
almost as few successors as he had predecessors." Craik. 



94 APPENDIX. 

Two love-stories are told in " xMuch Ado About Nothing." One of 
them is all glitter and dash, asperity and mischievous frolic ; the other 
commingles tenderness and shy delight, and, though clouded for a while 
with a cruel sorrow, is irradiated at last with justice and happiness. 
One of the beaudes of Shakespeare's design, in this comedy, is appar- 
endy the intention to make the portrayal of the spring-dme of love all 
the more bright, fragrant and luxuriant, by setting it against a back- 
ground of that slumberous repose which an old state of society expresses, 
even in its ordinary adjuncts. The ivy is never so gloriously green as 
when it gleams against the rough and frowning rock ; flowers are never 
so beaudful as when they grow over ruins ; and youthful love has never 
elsewhere the tender sweetness and pathos that hallow its life amid 
associations of the ancient and the past. W. W. 

II. — Costume for Much Ado. 

Italian raiment, of the Sixteenth Century, tastefully modified, is 
required in the dressing of this comedy. Actors might advantageously 
consult the descriptions given by Caesar Vecellio. Serviceable hints 
may be found in the remarks on Costume appended to the Prompt-Book 
editions of " Othello " and " The Merchant of Venice." In the produc- 
tion of "Much Ado" by Macready — at Drury Lane, February 24th. 
1843 — the male characters wore parti-coloured suits fitting tightly to the 
form, with short tunics. Examples may be found in Herbe's Costumes, 
and in similar works by Jvlercurj and Bounard. Blanche thinks that the 
costume worn by both sexes in England and France in the reigns of 
Henry VIII. and Francis I. might, with propriety and advantage, be 
used in "Much Ado." Don Pedro and his party, on their first 
entrance, should, perhaps, appear in martial attire, since they have just 
come from the camp ; but this is not imperative. ^y ^y^ 

New-York, October 31st, 1878. 



r 




^m 



